Free coffee for attackers
by highfaefanfiction
Summary: Fluffy Feysand coffee shop AU. Everyone is awkward and cute. Amren is *that one co-worker* and Rhys is a stupid, awkward teenage boy. Oh wait did I say that already? Will update with more chapters wooo lemme know what y'all think. Love you 333


**Rhys POV**

Rhys wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and sighed. The café was stuffy and clammy at the best of times, but now, in the July heat, it was like an oven.

He couldn't believe what his life had become. Just a year ago, he had been the charming, socialite son of a wealthy businessman, attending lavish parties and spending money on fancy cars and designer clothes. But then the accident had happened... without his mother and sister as buffers, his father had become terrifying and abusive to the point where Rhys just couldn't take it anymore. He'd gone to stay with Cassian for a fortnight, allowing his father some time to grieve in peace, thinking that he'd have cooled off by the time he returned. That plan had had the opposite effect, and not long after losing his mother and sister, Rhys found himself disowned. So now here he was, living in a squalid flat with a horrible roommate, working long hours at a cramped Starbucks right in the middle of Dublin, doing whatever he could to scrape together funds for the sub-par education he'd always taken for granted he didn't need.

"Rhysand, go clean up that spillage!" snapped his colleague, Amren, a feisty girl who frightened the shit out of every customer she served. Rhys rolled his eyes and sighed again, going in search of some cleaning supplies. He had hardly gotten two hours of sleep last night, he'd slipped behind on studying and had desperately needed to catch up. He was so exhausted that his eyes actually fell closed while he was walking.

The next thing he knew, something person-shaped collided with his chest. His eyes flew open as a harsh breath was knocked from him and a feminine voice hissed, " _Shit!_ "

He looked down at his accidental assailant and repeated her _shit_ in his mind. She was fucking _gorgeous_. Her golden-brown hair fell stuck in slightly sweat-damp curls to her forehead and cheekbones (which were sharp enough to slice stone, and covered in constellations of freckles), and her wide, thick-lashed eyes were the blue-gray of a winter morning sky. Her full, round lips were apart in an _O_ of shock, and... her _nose_. It was so damn _cute_! Rhys found himself wanting to flick it. Then bite it. _Shit, Rhys, shut the fuck up._

Then Rhys realised that what he really needed to to do was the exact opposite of shutting the fuck up, because he had been staring creepily at this girl for, like, ten whole seconds without saying anything while she was gushing a profuse apology and blushing. Shit, she got cuter when she blushed. _Goddamnit, Rhys!_ he chided himself.

"Sorry, I am so fucking shit!" he exclaimed, finally finding his voice. It was only when the girl looked at him with a baffled expression and then burst out laughing that he realised that while he had regained the ability to speak, he hadn't regained the ability to form coherent sentences.

"Fuck, that wasn't supposed to come out like that. I meant to say, _Shit, I am so fucking sorry_." What the fuck had come over him? He had been so distracted by this girl that he had lost his usual suaveness. Some cruel voice in the back of hid mind reminded him that if his father were here to see this, he would laugh himself hoarse.

"You're grand, you're grand, it was my fault anyway," the girl giggled. Her voice was like liquid starlight running through a grassy field. Wait, what?

"No, it was mine. I'm so sorry, I think I just fell asleep on the spot," he managed to reply. The girl laughed, and Rhys realised that he didn't know what else to say. He racked his mind desperately for something, anything. He didn't want to stop talking to this girl, ever.

"Uh, can I get you anything?" he asked, and fuck, his voice sounded _nervous_. He was just as bad as a fucking thirteen-year-old.

"Well," the girl began, "your co-worker over there is practically staring into your soul, so I think you'd better help her out first. Don't worry, though, I'm not going anywhere," she added with a wink. Rhys' stomach did a flip as she sauntered off to a table in the corner and pulled out a yellow laptop.

Rhys turned dazedly back to Amren, his mind spinning.

"Rhysand, _clean. The. Fucking. Spillage!_ " she hissed vehemently. "A child nearly just fucking skidded in it! If you don't start behaving professionally and get distracted every time you see a pretty girl, I'll report you!"

Rhys muttered a quick apology and cleaned the spillage at lightning speed.

When he returned to his position behind the counter, the girl was still sitting at her table, typing furiously. She never came to order anything, and Rhys found himself watching her and wishing she would. She never looked up.

 **Feyre POV**

Feyre jolted up straight and let out a squeal when someone pointedly cleared their throat right above her head.

She found herself looking into the unnaturally violet eyes of the barista she had run into earlier. The very, very sexy barista. "May I help you?" she asked, doing her best to keep a mask of cool, calm and collection. She felt his gaze boring into her, and wasn't sure that her mask was a very convincing one.

"Ma'am, you have been here for an hour without ordering anything. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to do so, or leave," he said with an infuriating little smirk. He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Feyre looked at her watch. She'd been here a whole _hour_? Shit, she was never going to get this paper done. She scanned the menu worriedly, and then looked back to Mr. Sexy Barista Guy. _Oh my God, Feyre, get a grip!_

"What's the cheapest thing you sell?" she questioned, chewing on her lower lip. She couldn't exactly afford to pay €4 for a cup of coffee.

Mr. Sexy Barista Guy The barista seemed to think about this for a second. "I think we have an offer on at the moment," he drawled. "Anyone who brutally attacks a staff member and then doesn't order for an hour gets whatever they want for free."

Feyre's brows furrowed, piecing together what he meant. Heat rushed to her face, and she cursed herself for it - she must look like an absolute tomato. She shook her head. "Oh God, no, I couldn't do that," she gushed. It was too much.

The barista shrugged in feign innocence. "Sorry, but the rules are the rules. What'll it be?"

Feyre sighed in resignation and rubbed her temple. She tried to assume what would cost the least. She couldn't go wrong with a good aul' cuppa, could she?

"Ah, I'll just have a small tea, please." Feyre could never for the life of her remember the names Starbucks used for their cup sizes. She knew it was Italian and authentic and all, but it was so confusing.

The barista gave her a look that told her he knew exactly what she was doing. "That sounds like underuse of a good opportunity, but... one small tea, for...?" he raised his eyebrows in question again.

"Batman," Feyre grinned.

The barista groaned.


End file.
